Effie came to the poor creature as often as she could. Once again the fascination of the life she so dearly loved drew her out of herself, and enabled her to forget the heavy home cares.
In her bedroom that night Sister Dorothy paid her a visit.
"Well, Effie," she said, "I've news for you. Mr. Lawson saw George last night. He spoke to him quite frankly, and said that, if he did not immediately give over this awful gambling, he'd go and see his cousin, Mr. Gering."
"And what did George say?" asked Effie.
"Oh, he promised as faithfully as possible that he'd give it up. Mr. Lawson seemed quite pleased with him, and said he didn't think he'd have been so penitent and so easily influenced as he has been."
"But will he give it up?" questioned Effie.
"He promised to. Of course he is anxious at not being able to earn more money, for the foolish fellow encouraged your mother to be extravagant, and now there are several debts which must be met somehow. What's the matter with you, Effie? Why do you start?"
"How can I help it? Debts would kill mother. Perhaps I ought to tell you, Dorothy—you have been so good to me, and I trust you so much that I don't think it can be wrong to tell you any trouble which concerns me."
"No, of course it isn't. Speak out what is in your mind, Effie."
"Well, George was in trouble that time he came to see father—that time when father was dying. He owed Mr. Lawson—- I can't tell you how, I can't tell you why—£250. He said that if the money were not paid back within six weeks, that he, George—oh, Dorothy, how can I say it?—that he'd have to go to—to prison! He said he must have the money; I felt, too, that he must have the money; for our mother's sake. So I went to see Squire Harvey, and he—he lent it to me."